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"Ah, yes, I did make some kind of promise," said Marriott. "A gallantry, Rosmore, and I would make my words good if I had the chance." "And the bribe?" Rosmore asked. "As you have just said, that can be no concern of yours." "That is not so certain. It happens that you have the chance. Mistress Lanison is in Dorchester a prisoner." Marriott sprang to his feet. "The devil! Who had her arrested?"
"Then we gain little by climbing from the roof if we could do so, which we cannot," said Fairley. "First, I have no rope; secondly ah! that will do for a second reason. They are upon the landing." As he spoke the door at the head of the stairs crashed open, and there was a rush of feet without. "Can you hide Mistress Lanison?" whispered Crosby to Martin, glancing round the room.
Strange to say, I was beginning to explain matters to her when we were interrupted, first by Judge Marriott, then by you. That is so, is it not?" "Yes," Harriet answered in a whisper. "The explanation may be made for your benefit, too, Mr. Crosby, but first let me assure you that Barbara Lanison is a woman I would befriend, and is nothing more to me.
When she heard them she always felt that Martin had something to tell her, or could help her in any difficulty she was in at the moment. "Mistress Lanison." She started. She was almost unconscious that the people who had surrounded her just now had gone and closed the door. She was alone in the hall with Sydney Fellowes, from whom a few moments ago she had cried out to be delivered.
Once, a year ago, a woman had whispered her suspicion of a man, and he was found dead in his lodging in Pall Mall before he had time to speak of what he knew, even if he intended to do so. As he was popular in the county, passing for a God-fearing gentleman, so Sir John Lanison was popular as the devil's "Abbot."
He was half a madman Barbara Lanison had said so and Crosby was convinced that there was little information to be got out of him, either then or at any other time. The next morning broke grey and sombre over Aylingford, yet Barbara woke to find the world brighter and more interesting than she had found it for a long time; perhaps it had never been quite so bright before.
Send the girl to me to-night." The men saluted and turned. "And Watson, you might put a little misery into your face and commiserate with Mistress Lanison on her position. It might interest her to hear the story of Alice Lisle of Winchester. She is high-spirited, and I would have that spirit broken." "I will play Jeremiah, sir, like any Puritan." "And Sayers, keep your eyes open in Dorchester.
Crosby and this fiddler are too cunning not to be dangerous. I warrant they are not far away from Mistress Lanison. By Heaven! if you let her slip through your fingers now, you shall suffer for it!" Bloody Assizes! Along West Street the name travelled to the "Anchor Inn," that hostelry of mean repute in Dorchester, and to a small upper room where three men sat.
He did not know that her escape had been arranged for, nor that he was to have a part in it; and there were times when he weighed against each other his pity for the woman and his fear of Lord Rosmore, finding it so difficult to tell which outbalanced the other that he went a step further and thought out plans for getting Mistress Lanison away from Dorchester.
Lord Rosmore's hand was still extended, but she did not take it. "For thirteen years a woman lived in this dungeon. Under the creeper on yonder wall you can see the stone slab which was her bed. The floor of the hall shut her up almost in darkness, and from the hour she stepped down into this room she saw no human face, heard no human voice." "You stand too close to the opening, Mistress Lanison.
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